


DIY Demon

by pernickety



Category: The Mighty Boosh
Genre: ... he's got wood?, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 22:49:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1619789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pernickety/pseuds/pernickety





	DIY Demon

Title: DIY Demon  
Pairing: Sand/Evil Tree  
Rating: ... I really couldn't say. Table fetishists might enjoy this.  
Disclaimer: Sand and Evil Tree belong to the Mighty Booshers, I'm just giving them extended (computer) screen time.

A/N: I worry for my sanity. Got the idea when I read the Extended Scenes Challenge. This hasn't been beta-ed, but at least it's short. In addition to that, it's my first fic, so be warned. :)

One second Evil Tree's woodchips were flying everywhere and the next Sand had already retrieved his gloves and hurried back to his DIY porn. Much as he liked helping out the Chosen One, the stripped wood centerfold took priority in his one-track mind.

Sand sat down and spread the magazines out in front of him. As he turned the pages he let his eyes roam over images of a dresser's back panel, then taking in a side table's naughty hinges. His mind began to swim as he saw heavy grain oak chests, woodscrews, polished knobs and high durance finish. That dining table was just begging for a change of paint. Sand could almost hear it begging. _Let me feel your powerful sander. Please, baby!_ That's what they were like, those fancy cherry wood dining tables. They said they wanted a man to sand them down manually, but deep down they craved the power tools. A quick, forceful strip of the topcoat.

On his palm sanders he could still feel the heat that he generated when he had made Evil Tree into the Pine tart he was now. A satisfied smile spread across his 220 grit sandpaper face.

Now that he thought about the recent sanding, the magazines didn't seem as exciting anymore. Not that long ago he had felt wood under his hands; Had felt Tree yield to his touch. Tree had let him sand him, sand him hard and fast until Sand was sweaty with the effort and Tree ...was a table. Sand leaned back against a blue rock and tried to recall every detail of Table (Woodwork formerly known as Evil Tree). The memory of lean legs, a smooth top and slightly curved corners were so vivid in his mind.

Later that night Sand went back to find Table. He was where he had left him. Sand stepped closer and let one finger lightly caress Table's edge. His wood was still exposed, raw and calling for a good varnish. Sand knew that Table wanted varnish, not paint, because he wanted the world to see the grain of his wood. Table is a tease like that.

And with a naughty twinkle in his eyes, Sand pulled out his paint brush.  



End file.
